


Monsters Are Created

by littleknowledgesuitsthegreat



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Rising (2007)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Angst, Backstory, Blood, Cannibalism, Character Study, Childhood Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Cuddles, Dogs, Eating Disorder, Graphic Violence, Hannibal doesn't eat anyone in the fic, Hannibal feels, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Hannigram - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Hannibal, M/M, Magic Realism, Mutism, References to Hannibal Rising, Self Harm, Sexual Abuse, Teen Hannibal, Trauma, Will Graham's Dogs - Freeform, Young Hannibal, but it is referenced, but not graphic, it's implied - Freeform, kind of, though, trigger warning, very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:29:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4825664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleknowledgesuitsthegreat/pseuds/littleknowledgesuitsthegreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in a while after Fromage. Will Graham seems to keep passing out and every time he does, he experiences Hannibal in a different part of his life. It has magic in it to some extent, but it's not really acknowledged much at all. It plays a lot of references with Hannibal Rising </p><p>Chapter 1- Will finds himself with Hannibal at the age of 9-12ish. Right after Mischa.<br/>Chapter 2-Hannibal at the age of sixteen while suffering from trauma induced mutism while living at the orphanage. At this point, Hannibal is very self hating.<br/>Chapter 3- Will meets Hannibal at the age of 20-25ish while he was travelling to Canada to catch the final of Mischa's killers. He's very mentally unhealthy at that age, which a lot of angst in drawn out of because of it. Also, this Hannibal is mainly the one from Hannibal Rising, and is very violent and manipulative. </p><p>(NOTE: I budged the canon a bit, but it's hardly noticeable. Instead of soviets killing Mischa, I have a part of the modernised au that they were killed by Russian prisoner escapees)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Child's Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> So for chapter one, this'll be slightly long compared to the next one. Please comment for more!  
> (Also, the dogs' names are totally made up besides Winston's.)

Admittedly, Will was running a little late to his weekly session with Hannibal. Though it seemed only five minutes beyond his usual arrival, he knew Hannibal wouldn't take kindly to it. The man was impeccable when it came to timing. It fell under the category of manners which he was so set in and expected everyone else to be as well. Will tried his hardest, though he was fairly sure this time, he had lost it momentarily. Time, it was. He remembered sharing a conversation with Alana, then somehow being in his car on his way to Dr. Lecter's office. The time in between then had been completely unknown to Will, which was both concerning to most people and also borderline irritating to himself. His mental instability came at the most inconvenient of times. He pondered whether or not to tell Hannibal of the event or to leave it in the air as with most of his thoughts. He would decide when he got to it. 

For then, he was rolling up and quickly getting out of the car with a haste that showed clearly his need to be timely. He would admit, he didn't want to upset Hannibal. Recently they had.. become more intimate. Closer than friends, Will would have put it. Hannibal, on the other hand, would not have said anything and hadn't for the time it occurred. Will had second guessed through most of it that maybe what had been going on was purely one sided, but the good doctor put that to an end through the bow wrapped rendezvous of a kiss a night that followed immediately after a case. Hannibal had been driving Will home, since they had arrived both at the scene through his car. 

An awkwardly quiet conversation about the case, Jack's anger issues, and the growing family of strays had pulled them through the car trip and all the way up to when Hannibal had walked Will to his door at the short pace it was. A flutter of awkward sense leading to Will turning around and walking inside had been cut short by the kiss, which itself, seemed to come out of the blue. Of which, Hannibal had initiated, then left afterwards without a word. Will wasn't sure as to blame it on another delusion he seemed to make a habit of having, but he swore he could have stolen a glance of nervousness glimmering across Hannibal's face as he turned quickly. Like teenagers, they seemed to be. 

Since then, their talking had been limited. Thankfully, Jack had taken up most time they would have spent speaking with cases, or, ironically, with lack of as well. But now they had to. Or at least, Will was going to make them talk about it. 

Which was why he was almost racing to the doorstep and into the lobby which Hannibal's patients were to wait in. Though good paying, Hannibal didn't ever seem to have a large number of patients at any one time, so the need for a new secretary was never relieved. They all knew to wait courteously for their turn. Which was why Will was easily able to let himself into the spacious room Hannibal spoke with his patients in. By then, he had been ten minutes late. 

He looked around instantly into the room, expecting to see a waiting Hannibal in it. 

No such luck. Will glanced around the large and high ceiling-ed room which had long since become familiar to him. By now, their sessions were used very unconventionally. Of course, Hannibal would be psychologically evaluating Will at every silent turn he had behind the masked and emotionless expression he donned, but it had become more of a mutual conversation between them. More friendly, more personable. Will had even begun to learn more about him, something which no one else seemed to have a clue of. What did Dr. Lecter do in his free time? What exactly was he like, personally?

Will knew the basics. He had a severe talent in cooking, drew in his past time, was certainly foreign, and was very well reserved. But Will also knew that he specifically had come from Lithuania, favoured pomegranates quite a lot(something which had resulted in conversation one of the times Will had come over for dinner at Hannibal's request), came to the liking of being a psychologist since he wanted not only to go into the field out of interest, but to help him understand his own mentality. Hannibal was different, like Will. Not specifically, but there was an underlying fact that separated Hannibal from the rest of the crowd which wasn't genuinely his reservedness. 

Will stepped around a small bit awkwardness, unsure what to do. Would it be more rude to look for Hannibal? Had the doctor thought he completely skipped out of the session and decided to leave? Or had the kiss been so regretful to him, that he didn't want to face Will? Will doubted the latter, but his mind allowed itself to wander onto frightful thoughts which always relayed to his fault of failure. 

His mind was brought from these wanderings at the sound of a scuffle in the corner of the room. Will looked over to the noise immediately, stepping forward with natural caution and simple curiosity. It had sourced from behind the corner desk which held some of Hannibal's drawings. Of which were uncharacteristically scattered on the wooden floor in an utter mess which Hannibal would not have approved of. Will looked around the piece of furniture and squatted down to pick up one of the drawings. It depicted a dark castle which poked out from between evergreen trees and snowy landscape, drawn in neat and precise lines which Hannibal had a style of. Will's attention was drawn away yet again to more of the scuffling with an added small whimper. 

He looked up to meet eyes with a small boy. Not necessarily small, simply prepubescent. The clothes he wore hung over him loosely, as if they were his father's, if the father had been a taller, large man around Hannibal's size. 

"What are you.... doing here?" Will already had the suspicions of this being a trick of his own mind, but he decided to play into it out of either sheer curiosity of defeat. 

The boy was panicked to the extreme. He had began to hyperventilate, but Will had yet to make a single move. Will wasn't able to identify the quickly spoken language the boy was huffing out. Maybe Russian, or Polish. Eastern European. He coughed roughly and physically tried to calm down. 

"I.... Who are you?" His accent was thick of something familiar, certainly not American. 

"My name is Will Graham. Do you know where you are?" 

He shook his head, which brushed against the books which had been lined up in neat rows in the shelves that were built into the walls. 

"Who are you?" Will asked slowly. 

" 'Annibal Lecter." His 'h' was silent, or more or less cut off in his heavy breathing. 

"Impossible." Will dejected, which only confused the boy more. 

"You are one of the men. The ones who killed her. You are going to do the same to me?" The boy seemed fairly fluent in English, with a few holes in  
pronunciation here and there. Will frowned. 

"Men? What men?" 

"You know! The travellers! They kill her! You kill her!" He snapped in frustration. His body had begun to mildly shake. 

The fluency deteriorated as he had less time to think through what he spoke. 

Will moved forward and outreached his arm in hopes of touching the boy. This seemed to real to be, well, unreal. he physicality of the boy should lead to the answer. Though he recoiled with animistic fear. Panic. 

"I won't hurt you." 

"You hurt her! Your people did!" 

"I have no people. I promise you, I killed no one." 

"You sound different." 

"What?" 

The boy gave a look of thought and glanced over Will. 

"American?" 

"I am American, yes. May I touch you?" He asked with his hand still outreached. With severe hesitance, the boy leant forward and tapped Will's hand, then recoiled instantly back to the pressed edge in the corner. Will frowned. 

This was real, he had felt him. If the boy was real, then he clearly had many more questions in need of answering. 

"Do you know where you are?" 

"No." 

"Where were you last?" 

The boy's eyes told Will they were elsewhere along with his thoughts. He waited patiently, and a minute later his wait had ended. 

"I.. watched them. She was a baby and they killed her, and... and..." He began to shake again. 

"What else did they do?" Will asked in a softer voice. He felt the need to comfort the child, so much that he had been distracted by the mere thought of who exactly he was. Or how he existed at the moment if Will's theory was true. Though nothing seemed to make much logical sense at the moment, so Will was prepared to accept anything as a possibility.

"They ate her. My sister." Tears began to weld in his eyes. 

"Ate her?" 

"Like an animal. I couldn't stop them, I wanted to but the man hit my arm." He glared through the tears. 

"What... what was your sister's name?" Will said, unsure what to do when he found the answer to the question. He savoured the small moment where he was unknowing as to what it was. It seemed too familiar. A Lithuanian boy of a young age, having lost a sister. 

"Mischa." The boy's words were thick with an emotion he should not have even brisked over yet in life. Pure grief, pure sadness. Mischa.  
Hannibal was like a father to the girl of that name. But this was a boy, a weak boy who was into a crumpled emotional mess at the corner of two bookshelves in Will's psychiatrist's office. Then again, how else did fathers react to such a thing? Will could hardly guess, but this seemed around it. 

"Hannibal." He said without tone. The boy looked up at him. He wore the same dark eyes as the man Will had come to know. These eyes were full of loss, though, a deep and broken sadness that seemed to be as mend-able as shattered glass. Not the almost vacant windows which Hannibal had only glimmers of emotion in which usually entailed a plan of thought. 

"This is impossible. You're not Hannibal Lecter." Will said harshly, as if it were to heal all that was happening. Or at least seize it from playing out any more.  
The boy sat there for a few seconds in his tight ball. He was utterly filthy, sweat and dirt caking his hair to his head.There were an array of cuts and patches of dirt and bright red, raw skin covering his arms. Some of which were bleeding. 

"Where am I?" 

"Maryland. America. Not Lithuania. You're safe here." Will added quickly, feeling a deep urge to comfort the boy. . 

"There is no safety for me. Not any longer." The boy, possibly Hannibal, spoke. 

"You're bleeding. Let me help you." Will said, trying to stay as impersonal as he could. The boy looked down at his arms, which were a rugged mess. He could only guess what awfulness lied under the baggy button up. 

This wasn't possible. Will thought over it quick, his mind racing his sanity at a cut throat opposition. 

A Lithuanian boy of eleven at most claiming to have a sister, or have had, that appeared in Hannibal's office? Not only had he said the sister had died, but had been eaten... Will inhaled. 

"I don't trust you." Hannibal, supposedly, spoke in a voice softer than had been, torn from what seemed to be previous screaming or yelling. 

"Why not?" 

"You can't be real." 

"Neither can you." 

Hannibal frowned and looked behind Will for a moment. 

"We are in a library?" 

"Er, something like that." 

The boy slid up to stand on his feet. He was shaky, swaying as if he were to fall over from a light wind. Will could tell he was sickly, maybe not with a disease of any kind, but in his mind. The boy shuddered, looking down with vacant eyes, as if he were looking at something different entirely. 

"They killed her. I couldn't... I couldn't..." He slumped to the ground on his side, passing out. Instantaneously, Will lurched forward to grab the boy from hitting the ground roughly. He softened the fall and allowed the boy to lay upon the ground, passed out cold against the dark wooden floor. Real, definitely real. Will looked him over. Was the boy dead? Highly improbable, but nevertheless, Will grabbed his wrist for a pulse. 

Very much alive, with a largely racing heart rate. Will felt a small amount of panic grip hold of his mind, his thoughts. This was Hannibal. It was too similar not to be. Either way, the boy was in need of medical attention. Will picked him up in bridal position and stood up. There was a debate on whether or not to bring him to the hospital, but Will didn't think that'd be the best idea. How could he explain bringing a random boy to the hospital which may not even exist? 

Will began to carry the boy out of the room and eventually out of the office, to his car. On his way, he had picked up the rest of the abandoned clothes and set them out as a small pillow when he had opened the back seat, and placed the boy accordingly against the length of faux leather.  
The drive would be long to Wolf Trap, but Will thought it better if the boy, possibly Hannibal, was in his care. If all logic was to be thrown out of the window, he may as well play along with his part. 

~  
During the end of the car ride, an oddly placed pothole lead to the waking of the child. Will hadn't noticed at first until he caught a glimpse of him curled up in the back seat corner through the mirror. 

"Hannibal?" Will asked, yet it sounded wrong to say. The boy stared at him through the mirror without a blink. 

"I'm taking you home. It'll only be a few minutes, is that all right?" Will asked, trying to sound comforting. It wasn't working. The boy simply stared. His small arms wrapped around his legs, his left holding tighter than his right, which made an awkward looking position. 

"Does your arm hurt?" Will asked after a few seconds. He noted earlier, the boy referencing that his arm had been hit. Hannibal still had no react aside from a silent glare. 

Will sighed. He decided to attempt one more time. 

"I'm sorry what happened. You probably don't care, but I'm still sorry. I don't understand why you're here, and you probably don't know as well. Glaring at me  
won't help either of us, though. I just need to know where you're hurt so when we get home, I can fix up your wounds." He spoke in a calm voice, exchanging glances from the road to the mirror every once in a while. 

Hannibal didn't react physically, though his eyes shifted slightly after a while. Will allowed him time to chose whether to speak or not. 

"My arm hurts." He said quietly in his small defeat. Will nodded and looked onto the road as they began to pull into Will's driveway. Within a few seconds, he stopped the car. The barking of Will's dogs were heard in a muffled distance from the car to the door. Will climbed out of the door door, closed it gently, and walked to the back door to open it up for Hannibal. The boy was curled back in the corner opposite to Will and looked back at him with freshly new fearful eyes. 

"What's wrong?" He asked as he opened the door fully. 

"Dogs." 

"They won't hurt you. They're mind." 

"Dogs are wild and was diseases." 

"These don't. I promise." 

Hannibal flinched slightly. 

"Here, let me show you. One second." Will said and closed the car door again. Probably not the best thing to do when taking care of a child, closing them in a car unattended, but Will took only a moment of jogging to the door of his house, picking up one of his smallest pups, then returned quickly to the car.  
He opened the car door once again to find that Hannibal hadn't moved an inch. When the boy caught glimpse of the dog, he tensed up as his eyes turned to panic. 

"Calm down. Look, this is one of my dogs. His name is George." Will said, unsure what was really needed the calm Hannibal down. George was set on the opposite faux leather seat, sniffing around as he slowly crawled up to Hannibal. Will had specifically grabbed George, knowing him to be the calmest and third to smallest dog in his little self made pack. 

"He won't hurt you, I swear." Will added when he noticed Hannibal tensing up when the dog came closer. George nuzzled his arm and began to lick at one of the cuts Hannibal adorned across his left forearm. The boy watched careful and slowly withdrew his arm to brush his hand against the animal's head. 

"See? They're safe. The others are a bit more rowdy, but they'll leave you alone when they realise you don't have any treats for them." Will spoke as he watched the boy pet the dog. George wagged his tail happily in response to Hannibal's petting and began to lick his hand in response. Will wanted to wait, allow the scene to play out forever, but he knew, or more or less didn't know, the extent to the damage of Hannibal's arm and the cuts probably needed to be cleaned out by something other than dog slobber. And so, Will picked George up and beckoned the boy to follow. 

"Come on. We'll fix you up and you can meet the other dogs." He said, keeping the car door open as he stepped back a while to give Hannibal some room to get out as well. The boy awkwardly climbed out of the car, not utilising his right arm in any way. 

When Hannibal was out, Will closed up the door with the hand not used to cradle George like a football. He, then, walked out and towards the house slowly while Hannibal trailed behind. When he stepped onto the porch, he set George down and turned to Hannibal. 

"Give me a second so I can calm the dogs down, alright?" He said and earned a nod in response. He nodded as well and turned back to the door, sliding himself in so that none of the other dogs would get out. The seconds he took to calm the wild animals down, Hannibal spent in awkward silence. George had began to sniff at Hannibal's uncovered leg with his wet nose, which tickled quite a bit for the boy. All he could do was step back a bit since his good arm was preoccupied in holding the baggy clothes up to his being. 

"Alright, everyone, we have a guest." Will's voice could be heard as he slowly opened up the door. There were so many dogs, Hannibal had to take a while to count them, finding challenge in the fact that they all wriggled and moved around. Seven, including George. Three larger ones, two the same size as George, and two which were very small. A darker coloured small dog was the first to approach Hannibal, smelling around the boy's legs. The others were quick to follow and soon they all swarmed around Hannibal, smelling to understand the new guest. Hannibal stood in one, very tense place as they surrounded him. After a short while, the two smallest dogs began to rough house at the end of the porch while two others, a larger one and the other one who reminded Hannibal of George, ran off into the yard. Another of the large ones, a white dog with a narrowed snout, nuzzled against Will's knee for attention, leaving the two last dogs to still gather around Hannibal. 

"This one is Russ." Will said, patting the white dog which was almost begging for his attention. "You saw George. That one is Winston." 

Hannibal looked down at Winston, one of the large dogs which a rusty brown coat that gave him a scruffy appearance. George pawed at his legs, bending his back sightly as he wriggled his body against Hannibal. The boy stared down at the two dogs silently. 

Will hadn't noticed at first, being slightly distracted with the excitement of the dogs, but when he had looked back at Hannibal, he saw the silent tears  
streaming down the boy's face. 

"Hannibal?" He asked and the boy looked up abruptly. Hannibal looked at him quietly, in almost a confused silence. 

"You're crying." Will added and Hannibal wiped a hand from his cheek, staring down at his hand with a frown. 

"Sorry." He said flatly. 

"Let's go inside. I'll let the dogs stay out for a while, they might be a bit overwhelming. Hannibal nodded and followed him inside. Winston and George still followed, but no one seemed to mind. The house was entranced into the sitting room, where Will had immediately told him to sit down on the sofa before walking out of the room quickly. Hannibal sat down, staring back at the two dogs which gave him curious looks. He hadn't felt when he began to cry, but he decided not to acknowledge for fear he'd understand why he was. 

"Right, I'm going to clean up your cuts and figure out what's wrong with your arm." Will said as he returned with a plastic box with a large red plus sign on the cover of it. The flag of Switzerland. 

He sat down on the coffee table across from Hannibal and opened up the box. Will pulled out a small, rectangular container and then a roll of gauze. Hannibal stared in silence. 

The room was pregnant with this quietness which held the two at a standstill. Will pondered whether or not he would need to bring Hannibal to the hospital. He was not doctor, and Hannibal- his Hannibal- was the only medically knowledgeable person he knew, having been a past surgeon. He was still debating on this being the real Hannibal, but only with the permitted time that he had. 

"This is going to hurt a bit, but I need to clean out your cuts, all right?" He said, holding up the rectangular bottle again. Hannibal nodded. 

Will grabbed his good arm, looking over which cut needed the most attention. He unscrewed the bottle and poured a few drips of the content from its nozzle, onto his cut. The liquid fizzed quickly and after a few seconds, Will pressed the gauze to it He continued this cycle for the next few cuts. Hannibal only flinched at it all. 

"How long has it been since your sister?" Will decided to ask. Hannibal glanced up and swallowed. 

"A week." 

Will blinked. 

"You don't seemed surprised as to where you are." He decided to say. 

"I'm not." 

"Why? Do you even know where you are?" 

Hannibal shifted slightly. He may have been the man Will saw him to grow into, but he was still a child now. 

"Purgatory."

This was more concerning, Will decided. 

"I died out in the snow, I think. The other men, they called me out into the snow. I starved to death. I fell over in the snow." Hannibal said quietly, though he  
seemed fairly accepting of the fact he tried to make. 

"An interesting view of purgatory, then." Will stood to humour his assumptions, hoping to understand more. 

"Mama says Purgatory was made because God can't tell if some people should go to Hell or Heaven. I must wait for him to decide. Vati never believed in such  
a thing." He flinched again as Will cleaned the last cut of his left arm. 

"Where do you think you should be placed?" 

"Hell." 

"Why is that?" 

"I deserve it. I failed to protect her." He almost whispered now, looking off into the air around him. 

"It wasn't your fault, that wouldn't be fair." 

Hannibal looked up after a second. 

"Are you an angel?" 

The following Christianic themes made Will slightly uncomfortable. He never pointed Hannibal to be one with any faith for a higher being. 

"I'm not." 

"Demon?" 

"I'm just Will Graham. You're not dead." 

Hannibal frowned. 

"I don't believe you." 

"Okay. Let me see your arm." Will shrugged. Hannibal held out his damaged arm. 

Will looked it over after he pulled up the fabric of the shirt sleeve. A large and yellowing bruise formed right below the junction of his shoulder. Will put a small amount of pressure against the centre of the bruise with his fingers. Hannibal tensed up. 

"It hurts." Will said as a statement. Hannibal nodded anyway. Will had to be completely honest to himself, he hadn't a clue what was wrong with Hannibal. Maybe the bone was bruised. He was unsure if there would be any fractures of anything of the kind. His knowledge dealt more in psychology than anything else. 

"Right. I'm going to call someone. I don't know if it's broken or not, give me a moment to bring the dogs in, all right?" He said as he stood up. Hannibal nodded again. 

Will walked over to the doorway again and opened the door. The dogs, by now, had gone off into lengthy directions of the vast land his house was surrounded by. He sighed and stepped out onto the porch. His mind was still caught on Hannibal. Small, fragile Hannibal in the state of a child. Will was beyond questioning the possibility of this, and kept his mind to what the boy had said. About his sister, about the cannibalism. It's one thing to be present at your sister's killing, but for her to be cannibalised as well? How was Hannibal so well driven and of all, mentally healthy as an adult? Quite possibly, Will didn't know as much about Hannibal as he thought, since there was a very well fact that Hannibal wasn't. 

He didn't know who he was going to call. He didn't know many people who where medically inclined, and even if he did find someone, how would he explain the situation? Will Wolf whistled out to the dogs and waved his hand out in the air to grasp their attention. After hesitation, they all began to run towards the house at their own paces. 

Will didn't notice anything wrong until he put his hand down from waving, when he had lost his balance some and had to press it against the door so he wouldn't fall. His vision blurred in an entirely too familiar way. Hannibal, Hannibal. Will looked back, but his body was entirely to lethargically weighted down to move at the speed he intended to. Of what he was able to make out, the boy was moving as well. He had to keep Hannibal safe, had to keep him from whatever he had seen. He tried to move towards the boy, but his legs gave out not a second later. He didn't know what was happening, was he poisoned? This was too familiar. Like earlier that day, on his way to Hannibal's office. Before he had more time to question, his world became black with the last image of Hannibal's form falling off of the sofa with a flat thud.


	2. Hush.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now Will gets to meet Hannibal during the period spent at the orphanage. The period where he's lost his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very heavily influenced by Hannibal Rising. Sorry if it's a little ill-written, I'm getting empted for the next chapter. Prepare for confrontation between young Hannibal right before he's going off the kill the man who escaped to Canada. Will's going to finally understand why Hannibal is the way he is. 
> 
> On a note, I'm terribly sorry for the amount of triggers in this chapter, but I really consider this Hannibal's self destructive period (at least, the heaviest on the topic)Do know I have a tendency to add certain parts of the story without any explanation to why they are there. It's your job to figure out why ;).  
> Please comment for more!! Translations at the bottom of the page. If I've made a mistake any where, I'd greatly appreciate it if you told me! Kinda flying without a beta here. 
> 
> Triggers- Self harm, possibly implied non-con (it's not really addressed so much as glossed over) and just general abuse.(in the movie, which I all recommend you watch, we only saw a tiny glimpse of the horrors which the orphanage brought on Hannibal, I toyed around with the idea of what else might have happened)

Will had woken with a start, his mind jolting his wake. Hannibal. The child. Where was he?   
He bolted up to a sitting position and looked around without any wait for his eyes to adjust to the surrounding light. He was in his house, but in a different place from where he had passed out previously. The lights of the kitchen were extremely protruding to his eyes, it took a minute for him to adjust.   
Hannibal. 

After a minute or two, he stood up, wobbly as he did. He pressed a hand to a nearby cabinet for balance. With the noise of his movements, Winston stepped into the room with his tail wagging. Will frowned as he looked down at him for a moment and looked up to the threshold of the room.   
Will brushed his hand against Winston's head and neck for acknowledgement and stepped back towards the sitting room, where he saw the cluster of dogs surrounding a figure on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table. 

Will stepped up and shooed the dogs away with his hands. What he first thought was Hannibal, either his or the child, was immediately proven wrong. This was a teenager, maybe fifteen or sixteen, passed out in silence, having no clue to the outside world where Will was staring at him with concern, or where the dogs had been smelling around him curiously. He had brown hair with natural highlights of blond streaked into it. He was tall, lean as well. Will had also noted the amount of scars around his knees and thighs, peaking up and out of sight behind confined cloth. The sea of red and occasionally white lines most likely went much further than that. Not only to add, Will also saw a line of bruising which tailed around his neck. Not completely, but enough to be see around his adam's apple.

Will blinked for a moment. There was a very strong possibility this was Hannibal- another Hannibal. He still wore the now-dirty button up which hardly hung on him, which gave Will the final clue as to his identity. He stepped past the boy and the dogs and out of the house for a moment, going to grab the other clothes he had retrieved before leaving Hannibal's office an unknown time ago. Only Winston followed with curiosity theme-ing his body language. 

The door had still been left wide open, though no dogs had been out from what Will could see. When he stepped back into the house and closed the door behind him, he counted up the seven total. Perfect. Though, it'd be more perfect if the problem to Hannibal's condition was resolved. Will pulled out the coffee table to give the teen breathing room against the dogs and stepped back for a while. He debated on whether or not to wake the young adult. Could that possibly harm him? What of the child? Will allowed his mind to wander to questions that had a seeming lack of answers. It didn't make a lick of sense. 

Before he could make a decision himself, the form on the ground shifted. The dogs were immediately interested in his moving, as was Will Graham. He sat up and instantaneously retaliated from the dogs by clambering back away from them. Will didn't move and decided to let him acknowledge the safety of the area. 

Or at least allowed him to calm down. 

"It's all right, they won't hurt you." He said when the teen had ended up in the corner of the room, pressing against the walls. The dogs took it as a sign of play and stood in front of him, including Winston who had abandoned Will's side. 

The teen stared at him with borderline scared eyes. Will glanced down a moment at his knees again, knowing full well in the back of his mind what they were from, but not wanting to assume it.

"Hannibal Lecter?" Will asked, though he already knew the answer. The teen nodded. Hannibal nodded. Will nodded as well. Might as well jump into this better than before. 

He whistled to the dogs, who turned immediately with curiously cocked ears. 

"C'mon, c'mere." He said, calling the dogs away from Hannibal. Afterwards, he looked up against. 

"How old are you?" Lay a map of facts before diving in. 

Hannibal blinked and kept staring at him, as if expectant. Will frowned. 

"Can you speak?" 

Hannibal shook his head slowly. This was concerning. 

"It's important that I know how old you are. Do you understand English?" 

Cautiously, the teen held his hands out in a stretched form and balled them up momentarily, then held up with a thumb and the five fingers of his right hand. 

"Sixteen. You're sixteen?" Will guessed. Hannibal nodded slowly. 

"Do you know where you are?" 

Hannibal stared at him helplessly, as if his eyes were trying to speak for him. He shrugged after a moment. Will sighed. He really needed some information   
besides 'yes' or 'no'. He thought back. What all did he know about Hannibal? Dead sister who was apparently cannibalised, rich family which was also killed, something which Will had known even before this catastrophe. 

He thought of a question. 

"Are you living at the orphanage now?" 

Hannibal nodded. 

Will saw how awkward the teenager looked, standing there in such attire. No doubt it was cold, and his pride was probably demolished. His Hannibal would most certainly make a fuss about it. Will grabbed the pair of rumpled trousers he had taken form the car previously, and tossed them to Hannibal. 

"Here. They probably won't fit you well, but it's the best I can do at the moment." 

Hannibal picked them up off of the ground in front of him with caution. He never took his eyes off Will. He pulled them on quickly and waited. Will decided it was a better time than ever to question even more. 

"Those scars on your thighs. Who did that?" Will quickly added,"Someone at the orphanage?" 

Hannibal shook his head. Some of the cuts were fresh. Will looked down. He wanted to ask so much more, but their barrier of yes's and no's was getting in the way. 

"One moment." He said and walked out of the room momentarily. This left Hannibal in a very confused moment as the dogs still swarmed somewhat, walking by for occasional sniffs at his legs. Many questions ran through his mind, but he couldn't very well ask them. His voice had left him years ago, only threatening to come back in demonic ways. He didn't need it, body language told more than sound ever could. And this man's body language told a story which Hannibal immediately read. He was anxious, it seemed, out of place. Probably hadn't as much of a clue as to what was going on than Hannibal did. 

After a minute, Will returned. 

"Here." He said, holding out two items towards Hannibal. A pad of paper and a pencil. "Can you write in English?" 

Hannibal nodded. He took the items hesitantly. Even if the man hadn't a clue what was going on, Hannibal was ill to trusting people, especially men. 

"I'm going to ask you a few questions, you can write down your answer on the paper. Is that all right?" Will asked. Hannibal nodded again, not looking him in the eye. 

"My name's Will, by the way. Will Graham." He added and stepped back to relieved at least some tension in the room that coiled at Hannibal's person. Hannibal grabbed a book from the shelf next to him to use as a hard surface, watching Will as he did so as if he were waiting, or even testing, Will to yell at him in return. Will only watched. 

"Where are those bruises from? Around your neck." 

Hannibal awkwardly handled the three items and wrote down his response. It took a while. He's used to writing in Russian, Lithuanian, but he could remember some lessons in English. He wrote down an answer and held it up to Will for him to read. 

Will had to take a second to decipher the rigid hand writing and occasional misspelling, which was to be expected. 

'Where am I?' 

Will laughed at the irony behind this response. Typical psychiatrist, answering with questions with more questions. Though he had to wonder whether or not Hannibal was doing this simply to be contrary or to avoid the question itself. 

"At my home." 

Hannibal wrote something else, quickly turning the objective of the conversation. Will allowed him this. He held up the paper pad and book again. 

'Why?'

"I'm not sure. Why can't you speak?" 

Another thing written. It's held up again. 

'My voice left me'. 

Will gave a look. 

Hannibal wrote another thing. 

'The bruises came from another orphan.' 

"A fight?" 

'no.' 

Will ran a hand through his hair. 

"I'm not sure what to do with you. Again, I'm not sure why you're here. Or how. You shouldn't be." He said and looked up again,"You're calm about it." 

Hannibal seemed to be clam about any unknown event at any age it seems. 

'Yes.' 

Will attention was slightly distracted as a dog nuzzled his knee. He looked down for a moment and thought. Hannibal was in an orphanage after his parents   
died and his sister was cannibalised. And from what Will has seen, at least physically of the teen, he didn't believe there was anything but abuse that came from said orphanage. For someone who gives the utmost hospitality, Hannibal hadn't been given much as a child. 

"What're they doing to you- at the orphanage?" 

Hannibal didn't give much through his expression, which Will didn't expect him to. 

'Have you kidnapped me?' 

"Don't avoid the question." Will responded. It was a reasonable question, but he was getting impatient. Hannibal flinched. 

'Will you do the same to me?' His hand writing was more of less scribbles by now. Will blinked. 

"No. God no, Hannibal. That's not... That.. should actually have been expected. I'm sorry." He didn't have to ask any more. Why the hell did he in the first   
place, these are classic signs of abuse. He ran another hand through his hair and waved it dramatically as he spoke. This only made Hannibal flinch and drop the book, only worsening the situation. The teen quickly grabbed the book and paper off the ground, disregarding the pencil. 

Will wasn't sure which was worse so far, Hannibal as a child of trauma, or this one. This abused, betrayed Hannibal, who had his life stolen from him complete and utterly. This evolution was a sickening one. 

"Sorry. Really. You're safe here, that's.... nothing's going to happen to you while you're here." Will said very quickly, trying to reassure Hannibal in hopes it'd fix whatever it was he'd broken. There was a moment of silence where Hannibal stared at him and he couldn't possibly hold a stare back. He knew any form of Hannibal would be against any form of pity, but Will couldn't help but sympathise. Well, no, not sympathise. In order to do so, you have to feel some level of relation with the other person. Will couldn't relate to such horrors, he couldn't imagine it. 

Now there was a question. Where would they go from now? 

"Are you hungry?" 

Hannibal frowned and scribbled something quickly on the pad of paper again. 

'why'? 

"Well, if you're going to be here for however long, I don't want you going hungry. Call it hospitality. You, or, another you, would show the same." Will said and   
walked into the kitchen, which was only a few steps away. The threshold was wide enough for him to stand in and look back to Hannibal. 

"Are you hungry?" He asked again with a different infliction in his voice than before. Hannibal hesitated, looking around first before nodding. Will nodded in response and turned back to the kitchen. No, he wasn't some world class chef as hs Hannibal was, but at the moment, this Hannibal seemed in need of something Will was verily to offer. 

He pulled out a loaf of bread and a pan at first, unsure what Hannibal would do with him looking away. As Will contemplated what was going on and what was he to do with all the new found information, Hannibal was stuck in the other room, being swarmed by dogs that he finally decided to acknowledge. There was the question of where he was and how he was there, but those would probably have answers that linked back to the orphanage. Which wasn't here, so he decided to acknowledge it later. Dogs first. He crouched down to be at a better level with the dogs and began to one by one acknowledge their wet noses and furry messes. Most usually with a touch of their head. Hannibal didn't understand their movements. Humans were much more his style of expertise. Dogs were supposed to be wild or food, or those who hunt it down. Not domesticated, though he had seen one or two that were. Once specifically. It used to be a 'family pet' of the orphanage, though it really served use to bark loudly whenever a child was out of their bed when they shouldn't be. Hannibal hated it. 

Coincidentally, it only lived three months at the orphanage, everyone having a silent blame on him. But no one said anything, especially since Hannibal was doing a favour for most the boys. He patted one of the small dogs, a cream coloured one with a shaggy coat that seemed to cling to his side. He thought over a bit more as to what was happening. While his mind wondered on the orphanage, it went a bit deeper into its facets. The demons in the freezer of Russian territory. The boys. The other boys. Taunting, questioning, touching. 

Hannibal wasn't sure exactly when he'd pinned down the tan coloured dog, but he was made fully aware when a loud screeching noise of betrayal was produced and Will had come running in. Without hesitation, the man had tackled him to the ground. Hannibal didn't have to think, auto pilot was the best in the situation with Will on top of him. He grabbed the pencil he'd set down previously and then Will's arms to flip their positions. When he pinned Will down successfully, he withdrew his hand which gripped the pencil tightly, ready to stab if Will made any other movements. Normally, he wouldn't hesitate, but this was a new feeling. This was different from the dormant cave his body was filled with. No emotion, the only excitement he got was out of harming something, or himself. 

"Hannibal! Hannibal stop!" Will yelled but Hannibal was too distracted between his own mind,t he dogs which were now trying to break them up, and Will's squirming. 

Of some of the few times Hannibal wish he could speak, this was one of them. He wanted to curse, threaten, scream.But that was reserved for night, when he couldn't hold back the demons any longer. 

He simply stood there, staring into Will's eyes with the pencil pointed towards the flesh of his neck. 

"Hannibal, put the pencil down and get off. You're safe, I'm not going to hurt you." Will tried to reason with him. He was somehow more surprised by Hannibal's hesitation than the opposite, as if he knew Hannibal had a darker side and here it was. At least, the sprout of it. No the thick and thorny bush of tangled crimson roses his Hannibal had grown into.

"It's all right. I promise, you're safe." He said more quietly. Winston was pawing at the both of them while Russ was whining loudly for them to seize. The other dogs had their attention at George, who had been under Hannibal's grip not moments before.   
Hannibal shook his head and glared. Will noticed a few seconds after it started while Hannibal silently had tears falling down his cheeks. Not even he had noticed. 

"You're crying." 

Hannibal frowned and touched his cheek with the back of the hand which held the improvised weapon. So he was, but why? He felt nothing, nothing saddening.   
It didn't matter. He arched the pencil holding back a bit more and plunged down towards Will. 

Or so, he attempted and missed by a few inches when he came collapsing to the ground, beside Will. It felt as if another force was lifting his soul from his body, ripping it out quickly so that he was left with instantaneous drops of his vessel. Hannibal was left staring at the ceiling before closing his eyes.   
Will fought to stay away, but the heaviness pulled over his body as well. The last thing he heard before the fiasco was silenced prematurely was a word in a foreign voice. 

"Prašom."

Darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations-  
> Prašom- Please (Lithuanian)  
> _  
> Please comment for more, I greatly appreciate them all!  
> (also, I'm about 97% sure I left some writers' note in here so if you randomly see '[edit the fuck out of this]' or something, I'm posting this on three hours of sleep and would greatly appreciate it if you directed me of the error)


	3. Hannibal's Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will now has to face the much more psychotic Hannibal in his 20's. This sets off major-ly in Hannibal Rising (an amazing movie by the way) but to explain for those who have not watched it yet, Hannibal tracks down all the killers of his sister and he's on his way to Canada right after having killed a few of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting excited, we're almost done with this fic! Also, this is not beta read and for that, I apologise. If there are mistakes that you spot, don't hesitate to tell me! Also, when I post things to AO3, it will sending drop to a second line on my sentences?   
> Like it'll be perfectly fine when I'm typing and when I post but afterwards when I'm reading it again it  
> goes like this?   
> Sorry for that, I'm not sure how to fix it! Please comment for more! Your comments show me that I should work more at it, which means more chapters faster >.

Will didn't dream, which he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disturbed by the lack of his illusions. When he had regained subconsciousness from the blackened episode he had been forced into, he didn't move for a while. With the exception of his eyes sliding against his eyelids. His body felt sore, which was probably due to how he slept and where. On the wooden floor of his home, being passed out in front of the semi adult which he had seen unconscious beforehand. Was he still? Perhaps this had all really been a delusion. No. It was too real, he was able to physically touch what he saw. The boy The teen.Hannibal had tried to kill him, yet somehow Will didn't care. 

"Often times, when people chose to hide, they don't realise what it fully entails. Making a portrait of someone within yourself." Will heard a voice arise. He opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. Someone else was in the room. He looked over to the source of the noise, his vision at an awkward angle against the floor. 

He saw, now, a young man, maybe even a teenager, leaning against the counter of the kitchen. He held a steak knife in his hand, staring down at it dramatically. 

The man looked up with only his eyes and paused all movement of his hands with the knife. 

"Your breathing shifts from when you are asleep and when you are not." He said. The man's accent was French, mixed with a familiar undertone. Will simply stared. 

"I hope you don't mind, I helped myself to some of your clothes. The ones which I awoke in fit poorly." The man continued and looked over at the counter as he set the knife down. Will was unable to see the neatly made line of kitchen knives which the man had set out. 

Will shifted momentarily, then sat up. How long was this going to go on?

"Who are you?" 

He noted the flannel and trousers that the young man had said to have taken. It hung slightly over his frame, being as thin as he was though was worn a bit awkwardly because it seemed quite.. short for him. He was taller than Will. 

"I believed the English equivalent of my name would be Hannibal. Hannibal Lecter. I assume you are American." 

Will sighed and climbed to his feet. 

"Another one" He murmured. Hannibal stared him down. The smile which he wore was.. strange. /His/ Hannibal never showed the slightest bit of emotion, masking it deeply for only privileged people to see. Will could tell that with this boy, it didn't fit. Nor did the accent, as if they both were like the flannel shirt he had taken. Draping over reality in a thin, yet ever so deceiving layer. 

"Another?" Hannibal cocked his head slightly. 

"Never mind. Do you know where you are?" 

"Not in France, at the very least. Did you kidnap me?" 

Will shook his head. 

"France? Not Lithuania?" 

Hannibal changed expression ever so slightly. Had Will been anyone else, he would not have been able to detect a thing. Had Will been anyone else, he'd be too terrified by the off-putting teen to have thought a thing not closely laced with fear of death or torture. 

"You're in America." 

"I should have guessed. Why?" 

Will shrugged. 

"I haven't the slightest clue. How old are you?" 

Hannibal cleared his throat slightly, pausing at the question. 

"I have nineteen years." 

So his English was less deficient, but the holes were still there. 

"Hm. Nineteen." 

Within a second, Hannibal grabbed one of the knives and pointed it out to Will, very close to his skin when he stepped forward. 

"Now, you will tell me who you are, and why I am here, and I will consider whether to extend my kindness any further to you." He said in a controlling manner. Will looked at him, unimpressed. 

"My name is Will Graham. I have no idea why you are here, at least at this time. Or age." 

"Explain what you mean." 

"Your accent. It's forced, isn't it?" Will deflects. 

"Why on earth would I force an accent I so often use?" 

"To hide where you're truly from." 

Hannibal's expression went dark. 

"How do you know this?" 

"I don't intend on harming you, so you can set the knife down." Will said, only to get a response in the form of Hannibal grabbing a chunk of his hair, tilting his   
head forcibly so that the cool metal blade pressed up against his neck and pointed directly up to the flesh of under his jaw. 

"It's adorable how brave you are. Endearing, but ultimately deadly on your end." 

Will had to wonder how on earth this could have been Hannibal at one point in time. This child of murderous smiles and broken eyes. So willing to kill. What did this make of Will's Hannibal? 

This Hannibal looked over his face with precise thought, and Will took the opportunity to do the same. Similar cheek bones with the sharpness the blade entails. Dark eyes, brown-blond hair which was brushed back completely. 

"Do you know what happened to the last person at the end of my blade?" He asked after a few moments. Will fought the urge to point out that technically, they weren't his. He simply raised an eyebrow. 

"I carved an 'M' into his chest. 'M' for Mischa. Do you know of her?" 

"I may have a clue." 

"You see, I was just hunting down her killers and now I find myself here, being abducted by a strange foreigner? Which one do you work for?" He pressed the blade ever so slightly so that a small amount of blood trickled down onto the metal and onto his skin. 

"I work for no one." Will responded simply. Hannibal upturned the blade so that it pressed down at an angel that allowed him to lick the small trail of blood that had made its way to his wrist. Will tried not to groan. Had he been anyone else, this would be a severe sign of intimidation that would, most certainly, have worked. Maybe it would have worked on him, had he not known who the man was. Though, in another sense, Will was beginning to unlearn so much of his Hannibal Lecter, he wasn't confident he knew him at all. 

"Tell me what you know." 

"I know about Mischa." Will humoured. Maybe not the best of times to be doing so. 

"From who?" 

"From you. Hannibal. She was your sister. I know you. Not /this/ you. Another Hannibal." 

"Is my English conceding me?" The young man frowned, a small flash of confusion contradicting his act. 

"I've seen you as a child. After her death. And I've seen you as an adult. After this phase. I only know bits and pieces about you, it seems I've missed out on a good chunk." Will explained further, then decided to add his own question. That chunk being only three years. "What exactly happened to Mischa? What did   
they do?" 

There were a few tense seconds where Will took to ponder whether or not Hannibal would simply kill him right there. Hannibal's smile turned tight. Will could tell with every one of these sickeningly happy expressions that it looked like it almost hurt to smile. 

"They ate her. Killed and cooked her." His voice was dangerous. 

"And now you're trying to kill them?" 

"Trying to get revenge." 

"And what will that do for you?" 

"Nothing. It it not for me, though I do enjoy indulging in certain... urges." Hannibal looked over Will's face. "It's for her." 

"'M' for Mischa." 

Hannibal pulled the blade away with momentary hesitation. 

"You're not scared." He said, looking over the blade as he receded back to lean against the counter. 

"Why would I be?" 

"I just spoke of the cannibalism of my sister and openly confessed to killing a number of men." 

"You never exactly said it." 

"It was implied. Most people would be afraid by now." 

"I'm not most people. I know you, remember?" 

"I have never met you before." 

"You have, you just can't remember it. And probably won't remember this. Hopefully not." Will pulled a hand to the small cut on his neck. He looked at the blood produced on his fingers. 

Hannibal set the blade down next to the others. His attention was caught immediately by a small whimper coming from the threshold of the room. Will looked over to see Winston sitting nervously, watching the whole scene play out. The dogs were similar behind him.

The young man frowned, seeming immediately disturbed by the animal. 

"It's alright, Winston." Will tried to calm him. He feared that if Hannibal went any further, the dogs might try to attack him, and he couldn't do with much more animal harming. 

Winston hesitantly walked up to Will and nuzzled his leg. He leant down to pet the top of his head. He glanced again at Hannibal. 

"You're very thin. Impossibly thin. Is there a food shortage where you live?" 

"In France? No." 

Will gave him a look of concern. 

"Something's changed, hasn't it? You used to talk about your sister with grieving, sadness. Now it's just.. bitterness, almost fear. What changed?" He asked. 

Hannibal looked him over and pressed his hands to the edge of the counter behind him, as if to level himself. 

"I suppose there's no harm in telling you, it's very unlikely you'll be leaving this house alive any way." Hannibal almost murmured, which seemed rare for him. Hannibal was precise, very pointed with his speech. Will wanted to laugh at his comment, though it'd be a bitter laugh out of the underlying fact that it was becoming more and more of a possibility that he wouldn't. 

"I've recently come across the news that I, myself, am one of Mischa's.... adversaries." 

"How so?" 

"They fed her to me. When I was young, when we were both captured. I wasn't told what it was. So I suppose I deserve to die just as much as the others." 

"You didn't know." 

"That's no excuse." Hannibal shot him a prolonged glance before looking down again. The only movement he made was in his eyes. Was he always this truthful   
when he believed it wouldn't leave his control? Perhaps he needed at least someone to talk to about it, and what better opportunity than someone who's soon to be in a body bag? The perfect therapy for any psychotic killer. Will somehow seemed at peace with the idea of Hannibal killing. It seemed to... fit, as if it should have been expected. Which, in all honesty, it should have. 

Will found in his thoughts something he was disappointed in himself for not noticed at first. 

"It's rare, but often those who've dealt with cannibalism in a traumatic event feel almost... scared, to eat any more. Or paranoid unless they know exactly where it comes from. Ironically, many turn out to become cooks themselves." Will said, almost quoting the textbook facts of cannibalism. There wasn't many, but Will knew enough. 

"Most would call it anorexia. What an ugly word." Hannibal's voice had softened some as he scratched his thumbnail against the counter more. 

Will frowned severely. This didn't seem... correct, in the least. Hannibal, /his/ Hannibal, had fixed cooking into a big part of his life. One of the reasons Will had first considered him a very uninteresting man. Even on that note, Will recognised he was, in the very least, dead wrong on that assumption. 

Though, the fact remained, he hadn't ever really seen Hannibal eat anything he hadn't cooked before. That's play into Will's theory drastically. 

"It's not. It's... a trust issue, isn't it? You can't trust anyone after knowing that, not even yourself." Will replied. Well... fear of eating altogether, that was generally anorexia. Yet the psychology aligned differently.   
Hannibal watched him silently, as if it was a response in itself. Which was what Will accepted it as. The silence stretched on until Will decided to change the subject. 

"What are you doing in France, then? Just humour me. Last time you were in an orphanage to my knowledge." He asked.

"I was studying in anatomy." 

"Was?" 

"I'm there no longer. When you caught me, I was in escape to Canada. Of course, you should know this." 

"I don't. At least, as much as I would prefer to know. You were a student then." It was a statement,"I thought you were going to study to become a surgeon?" 

At the moment, Will acknowledged that telling Hannibal possible information about himself that he doesn't know about yet may lead to something very bad, but he decided to not worry of it. 

"A surgeon? I don't believe that's very characteristic of me. Saving people isn't necessarily in my expertise." Hannibal responded with no change of tone. 

"Or, that's specifically why you'd become one. It'd be harder to suspect someone who works in the medical field." 

"Nonsense, it only allows people to question due to the knowledge you'd have in the field of humanity."

"Speaking from experience?" 

"Possibly."

"Have you ever eaten someone, Hannibal? Aside from your sister?" Will made his voice jut with a cold manner. Like Hannibal wasn't anything to him. 

"Possibly." He replied, though it was a clear yes by his expression. "Why, are you afraid I'll eat you?" 

"Hardly. Just wanted to clarify." Hannibal the cannibal. Will didn't know what to think, what was /appropriate/ to think, yet he didn't feel fearful. Of this   
Hannibal or any other. After all, he had just seen him a child. He didn't fear Hannibal, he understood him. Which was perpetually more terrifying to Will than anything. 

"Who are you with, then? You're practically a teenager, I doubt you live on your own." 

"I lived with my aunt." 

"She took you in after the orphanage?" 

"When I tracked her down and found her, she took me in." Hannibal's voice was more tense than before, a slight change that only Will could have seen. 

"Do you not like talking about her?" 

"What makes you think that?" 

"You're tensing up. Not as much as you do when thinking about your sister, but... it's still there. Did she do something?" 

"She loved me and she took care of me. Terribly sorry to disappoint but there's no emotional baggage where you're looking, so I suggest you seize your   
search." He have a dangerous look. 

Will didn't believe him. Perhaps the way he worded it lead Will astray. 

"Interesting that she doesn't live in Lithuania like your family had." 

"She's married into the family. From Japanese descent. Lithuania was too... cold for her." 

Will stepped across the room, glancing out the window for a moment. Winston followed. 

"What happened to your uncle, then? Does he live with you too?" 

"No. He passed away."

"Must have been hard on your aunt." 

"She's a strong woman." Hannibal dejected. Clearly, he wasn't going to give in. Will sighed to himself before looking back at him. There was more to that relationship than Hannibal let on, but he wouldn't let go of his iron grasp to it. 

"Most people would call you a psychopath." Will decided to change subject. 

"Who's to say I'm not?" 

"Me. Because you aren't. Sure, you /seem/ like one, but... You're different." 

"How would you know?" 

"Because, I know you Hannibal." 

"You said that, yet I sincerely doubt it." 

"Why is that?" 

Hannibal didn't answer and looked back to the row of knives he'd set up. 

"I'll be honest with you, since you're not going to remember anyway." 

"Don't be too sure about that." Hannibal didn't looked up, but the fierceness in his voice was still very present. 

"You won't, I promise. I may not know you specifically, but I know who you are. You're younger than the Hannibal I know, but still very much a part of him.   
Who I know very well." 

"How so?" 

"We're good friends. Very close." 

"I wouldn't allow myself friends." 

"You don't, usually, but you definitely allow infatuations." 

"Oh, I'm infatuated with you, then?" 

"To an extent, yes." 

"Forgive me, but that's ridiculous." 

"It isn't when you love someone." 

Hannibal looked up this time. 

"I don't love. It's not in my nature to do so." 

"You loved your aunt, didn't you?" 

"That was... different." 

"How so?" 

"Because I didn't /want/ to. I tried, and acted as if I did for her only. But I simply did not." 

"In the way a nephew loves his aunt, or more intimately?" 

"She wasn't blood related." Hannibal whispered. His eyes were full of a darkened haze which were hard to read aside from the one word. Danger. He wasn't   
sure if it was to him, or to Hannibal. 

"What did she do to you?" 

Hannibal looked down to one of the dogs that had made their way into the room to distract his eyes. He smiled that forceful, almost painful looking smile. 

"Our relationship was admittedly bizarre, but it kept her happy, and my dear aunt needed happiness in her life." He said in a vague tone. 

"Ever thought that you did as well?" 

"It's a challenge for me to process any emotion, I don't need it." 

"You do. You just think you don't." Will replied. 

Perhaps your Hannibal does love you. But I will admit, I'm beginning to hate you." 

"Why is that?" 

"Your knowledge of me. It's a surprise I haven't killed you yet." 

"Will you try?" 

"Most likely." Hannibal said, picking up one of the larger knives in a casual stance. He twisted his torso and stepped to align in thin body as he faced Will, now   
with the knife in hand. 

"I'm going to ask you not to." Will said, though he didn't move from his corner of the room. 

"I appreciate how polite you are." He still stepped forward. 

"But?" 

"But I don't believe that will save you." He stepped forward at an alarming rate. Will had just enough time to grab Hannibal's wrist before the knife had the chance to plunge down into him. The tense interaction riled the dogs to an explosive atmosphere. 

"Hannibal, stop." Will's voice was strangled as he fought to hold the knife back. He wanted to keep Hannibal in the same place, out of the assumption that he made up for his skinny frame through swiftness. He was well trained, by whom, Will hadn't a clue. 

"Struggling won't help you." He sighed and pulled the handle of the knife from the hand he held it in, which Will had a strong grip on. He attempted to slash upward at Will's face, which wasn't much of a success. It only grazed his skin in a small cut.

"Killing won't help /you/." Will had grabbed his hand, and then Hannibal's wrist only pressed against his cheek with the knife upward. Will's blood began to trickle against Hannibal's skin. 

"How would you know?" Hannibal hissed and tried to force his hands upward. He was weak, for the time Will fought. Lack of sustenance will have a toll on anyone of any size. He was still quick. Will had to be quicker. 

Will managed to force the knife down and squeezed Hannibal's wrist, forcing him to drop the knife, which clanged onto the wood floor with a thud. 

Hannibal looked up and stared for a moment in the tight position they were in. 

"You don't need to kill." 

"Yes I do!" Hannibal lunged forward before Will could process what he was doing. When his teeth sunk down into the skin of Will's jaw, it was fairly evident. Will fumbled his hands quickly and grabbed at the hinges of Hannibal's jaw as he would a dog biting into something it shouldn't. A red pain sourced itself at Will's face until Hannibal let go, thankfully not fully biting away at any skin. Will pushed him back and he stumbled to the ground. 

Heavy breathing ensued and Will quickly picked up the knife. 

"Hannibal.... I don't want to hurt you." Will huffed out, though he still held the knife at in a ready stance to take a stab if the other tried anything more. He   
didn't bite as hard as Will would have expected into his skin. Blood was still there. 

"Do it." Hannibal said as he glanced at the knife. 

"No." 

"Why not?!" Hannibal yelled at this point. It was clear, Hannibal hardly ever had breakdowns. It was probably a challenge to muster up such emotion. Will could see in his eyes, he wanted to be gone. To die. He had said he deserved it. 

"Why should I?" 

"I... ate her. I deserve it." 

"You didn't know." 

"It does not matter." 

"I'm not going to kill you. Even if you deserve it, I can't." Will's voice had developed a slight tremor. Hannibal climbed to his feet. 

"I've killed. I /need/ to kill, so long as you keep me alive I will." He said in form of bargaining. Will shook his head. 

"Why do you need to?" 

"I simply do. I'm a monster, it won't stop until someone stops me." 

"Well I'm not. You deserve it, probably, but I've seen too much of you to judge that. You weren't meant to be this... monster. You were made one. It's not your   
fault." Will said, watching as Hannibal trembled within the thick haze of emotion that his body seemed to physically reject.

"Stop." 

"You were just a boy told to look out for his sister. After seeing what all you have, having those things done to you, insanity's to be expected." 

Hannibal pressed a hand back onto the counter to level himself. Will didn't notice what he was reaching for. 

"I've warned you once. Don't make me again." He said dangerously. 

"How much /did/ you go through, Hannibal? What happened at the orphanage... Those bruises were too specific, too similar to.." 

"To that of a hand?" His voice was sharp, piercing. 

"Why? What did they do to you?" 

Hannibal grabbed the closest knife, ran forward and slashed blindly at Will. He earned a gash against Will's forearm, and before he could go further he dropped the knife altogether. The dogs began to bark and swarm around Will.

"/Stop/." Hannibal whispered, looking to fall any second from now. 

"It's alright, Hannibal. You don't need to hurt anyone." Will tried to coo, gripping his arm. It wasn't quite deep enough for stitches, but it was definitely close. 

He stepped forward. The room began to have a heavy weight against all of its human inhabitants. Hannibal fell to the ground. He didn't notice the tears trickling down to his cheeks until minutes after they had began. Will looked over Hannibal again, seeing the fearful child, the mute and broken teenager, and this young adult dancing on egg shells of stability. Will dropped to his knees as well, accepting what was to happen. 

"Get away." Hannibal said with a weak demeanour in his voice. He was on his knees, shaking and giving up. Will pulled his hands up to cup his cheeks, something severely unexpected by the both of them. 

"I won't hurt you." He said, looking into the scared and animistic eyes Hannibal held. 

"Why?" Hannibal asked, now accepting Will's closeness as a child would its mother's. 

"You deserve better than that, so much better, Hannibal." Will responded, unsure if Hannibal even heard what he had said since he had collapsed his weight   
against Will's chest. Will fell as well after a few moments. The blood seeping down his arm was completely ignored, as were the dogs that surrounded them. 

Sleep overdrew both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you like! I love comments!  
> (EDIT: Also, another note, I did add a bit there with Hannibal's aunt because what happened between her and him can very easily be categorised as sexual abuse. I don't care if the woman was married into the family, it's still incest in my book because she was his aunt and she should not have done what she did. Especially to someone as young as Hannibal was. Though he wasn't technically a minor (I don't believe during the times that this relationship occurred) he was mentally unstable and it wasn't right. She knew what she was doing was wrong, Hannibal probably didn't have a clue. In this story, he didn't since he was never really introduced into healthy relationships whatsoever.)


	4. Love of Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right back to our beloved Hannibal, this chapter will really wrap up the story because I feel we all need some relief from the illustration of Hannibal's twisted past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter everybody! Definitely shorter this time. I will now be responding to all the comments you've all written for me! Thank you for commenting and kudo-ing as well! This has been my first Hannibal fic, so I may write some more along the line if you guys believe I should. Perhaps on Will's past with the same outline of this story (as suggested by a previous commenter ^.^)

An upside of living out in the middle of seeming no where was the amount of anonymity you earned between the thick trees and stretching landscape. While it may be something more dangerous at times, Will was thankful for it after what had happened. No nosey neighbours next door wondering what the yelling was about. Will took this time of silence to figure out what to do as he awoke to the world before even opening his eyes. At a sudden realisation, Will opened his eyes abruptly. Hannibal. Where was he? Will bolted up to a sitting position to find that he was not on the kitchen floor with his arms covering Hannibal tightly as he had been before sleep. Instead, a blanket was draped over him and he found his body stretched over the sofa in the next room. With no Hannibal in sight. 

Will stood up and looked around. Winston walked up and nudged his knee. Will heard movements in the kitchen which acquainted the scents coming from it. 

"Hannibal?" He asked as a calling out around the vacant rooms of the house. Hannibal walked out into the threshold of the kitchen which connected to the sitting room. /His/ Hannibal. Will hesitated at first until he realised the recognition Hannibal had of him. Definitely his. 

"Will." He said in a statement, unsuspecting of what Will immediately did afterwards. When the man walked up and hugged Hannibal, he immediately tensed up. Admittedly, Hannibal wasn't sure what to do in situations as such. He understood what he was /supposed/ to do, though that didn't mean he knew /how/ to react like it. Thankfully, Will withdrew. 

"Hannibal. /God/, Hannibal." Will murmured, looking him over. 

"You're bleeding again." Hannibal responded flatly and Will looked down to his arm. He only saw a bandage wrapped over where Hannibal, the younger Hannibal, had cut him. 

"Not there. One moment." He said before turning to a near kitchen counter. He grabbed a wash cloth hanging from a drawer, wet it, and walked back to Will who had stepped into the kitchen a bit more. 

"I hope you do not mind, I made use of some of your medical and kitchen supplies while you were asleep." He said and began to wiped against the cut at Will's cheek. He had forgotten of that cut, the first Hannibal had gotten on him. Will glanced over to the array of materials Hannibal had most likely retrieved from his bathroom. Swabs, a few hand towels, hydrogen peroxide, and a few more things. On the other side of the kitchen, something was cooking. Will thought over everything. 

"What time is it?" 

"Eleven pm." Hannibal said and grabbed the bottle of peroxide, momentarily taking his hands off of Will's cheek. Will blinked. It had been a long day. 

"I must thank you." Hannibal added and took to swabbing the cut with peroxide. 

"What for?" 

"The last thing I remember was having a series of blackouts, I can only assume you took care of me during that? I apologise, but many things are not making  
logical sense for me so I can only assume. Unless, of course, this is a kidnapping of some sort?" Hannibal said with a look. Will was hesitant, but nodded.

"That's basically what happened." Will noticed he was in his own clothes, which meant he had changed. 

"Something happened?" 

"No." Will lied. 

"Your expression says otherwise." He wasn't convinced. Hannibal set down the swab and looked back up to Will. "There. May I ask how you acquired these?" 

"It's a long story." 

"And possibly a trip to the hospital, had I not been here." 

"Thank you." 

"No need. Though I must ask all that happened since this morning. I believe you found me during the time of our appointment? The last thing I remember is checking to see if you had arrived." Hannibal explained. Before he could get much more through, Will squeezed him with his arms again, more tightly than last. 

Only a few seconds later, Will's hand was at his cheek and he was kissing Hannibal with a certain level of carefulness that Hannibal couldn't understand. As if he were to break at any time. Perhaps this was Will's response to their previous encounter. One which Hannibal feared would doom what they had so far. He wasn't afraid of saying he was incorrect from time to time, he was more than happy to now. 

Yet there was more to what Will was doing, of his actions. He seemed so very... sad? Deeply upset at whatever he had seen, of which Hannibal hadn't a clue. Though, he had a thought with the deep slashes that Will had acquired. When they let go, Hannibal didn't pause to say his mind. 

"I've upset you." He said simply. 

"No, no, it's not you, it's just..../you/." 

"I don't understand." He didn't. 

"I love you. Hannibal. /All/ of you, your past your presence, your future. No matter what you've done or will. I don't care." Will found his words tumbling out of him like a leaky faucet. Hannibal paused and thought for a moment, his expression blank for the time being. 

"This is a strong claim to make. Normally I would have to think through those words, but fortunately I do not have to since I feel something similar. Perhaps not as strongly, I will admit. But I'm not against saying I love you as well." He replied after a while. Will smiled weakly and kissed him again for a moment. 

"Although, are you sure about what you're saying?" 

"How would I not be?" 

"I've committed horrible crimes, Will. I believe if you fully knew what I've done, you would take those words back." Hannibal was honest, something which he rarely was to most. 

"It wasn't your choice. You /have/ to, I understand that now. It never was a choice. Just..." Will glanced down for a moment, then met Hannibal's dark eyes again,"Don't end up killing yourself in the process." 

Hannibal Lecter was a monster, is a monster, but he didn't want to be that way. He didn't have a choice. While it may be unlovable still for many, Hannibal deserves to be loved, and Will Graham was more than happy to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you like it!

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: I forgot to mention, 'vati' is what I put as Hannibal referencing to his father, it's German for 'daddy' (kind of) but it's often used around Eastern Europe.


End file.
